


Short Straws

by TheArrow



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Developing Friendships, Friendship is Magic, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Prequel of a Sort, Skyrim - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 14:32:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11254905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArrow/pseuds/TheArrow
Summary: It is the middle of Sun's Height, 4E 192. Somewhere in the badlands of western Cyrodiil, Inigo the Brave has been hired to travel as a sword-arm for a gang of bloodthirsty mercenaries on their way to plunder in the tumultuous chaos that is Hammerfell in the years after the Great War.Every night they camp, two of the members of the mercenary company must keep watch, and that night Inigo picked the short straw.So did a small wood elf.





	Short Straws

**Author's Note:**

> Some housekeeping notes: 
> 
> Aranwen is described using the English gender-neutral pronouns "they", "their", and "them" here.
> 
> While I am alluding to Inigo's skooma addiction in but the most oblique ways, if I do end up writing more this will become a more significant part of the story, so content warnings apply for a fantasy but analogous to real life kind of alcohol/drug addiction. 
> 
> One-shot, but planning to make it a part of a larger series of vignettes of Inigo's journeys with Aranwen, the Bosmer Dragonborn I usually play as. 
> 
> Inigo the Brave is the labour of love and creation of Gary or Smartbluecat on the Nexus modding forums. I don't know what future Gary has planned for Inigo, hence why I'm writing about events that take place before the game of Skyrim properly begins in 4E 201.

**Sun's Height 4E 192  
Somewhere in the wilds west of Cyrodiil**

Inigo had been travelling for a fortnight with a ragged group of mercenaries under the leadership of Rol the Forceful and his right-hand Argonian, Eevaas the Onlooker. Thanks to their sheer numbers he hadn’t drawn the short stick to keep watch once so far, but it seemed tonight was the night his luck would run out. 

Eevaas snickered when she noticed the smallest straw held between Inigo’s blue fingers. “It is the blue cat who keeps watch tonight!” 

Inigo sighed, anticipating the complete exhaustion he would feel tomorrow. He was having a hard enough time sleeping anyway, secluded as they were on this fly infested land—they weren’t far from the Colovian Highlands now—in the dry heat of late summer. But this mercenary band had a few rules, and one of those rules was that there were always two who stood watch at night, to minimize the chances of either of the watchmen falling asleep. Inigo was a little worried they would put him with one of the human bandits who so often liked to make fun of him for being blue, or disliked Khajiit as a rule. He watched with a bit of worry as the mercenaries compared the twigs that they had drawn from Eevaas’ hand. Finally, it was found that a Bosmer archer had the second-shortest stick. 

“And it is the little elf who will keep him company. Everyone else find a place to sleep. And quiet, you dogs! Enough of your yammering. We leave before dawn!” Eevaas barked. 

Inigo sighed as the mercenaries moved away from where him and his elven companion were standing. The elf was wearing a hood that covered most of their face, and they nodded slightly in Inigo’s direction before taking off into the bush. 

“Shall I get a start on the fire then?” Inigo called out. The elf replied with a vaguely positive hand gesture.

He looked around the encampment for a perch that would be suitable as a lookout. He had noticed from watching the other lookouts the nights before that the previous watches had followed a simple set of rules when choosing the location to set up watch. They needed a spot where they could make a small smokey fire that emitted very little light, just a ways from the campsite, in a place that overlooked the camp but wasn’t all that close. 

He spotted a small raised bit of ground just up the hill—it made for almost a perfect perch to watch over the campsite. Pleased with himself, he grabbed his pack and climbed the short way up the hill, and without taking off his armour, set about to fix up a small fire pit. A small jab of pain shot through his gut, but it was a familiar pain, at the long ago memory of his mother and father teaching him and his brother how to make a fire just like this one. 

It was just after sundown when the elf finally returned, sitting not far next to him. 

They both began the watch in silence, as sleep and calm finally rested over the camp, the only sounds were snores and bugs and the returning of bird song they had frightened away earlier during the bustle of setting up their sleeping rolls. 

Inigo inhaled deeply through his nose, and verified each smell he could identify in the kaleidoscope of smells mingled together around him: sweat, blood, metal, earth, wood, sand, grass… one of the mercenaries must have had some dried salted beef, as he could still smell it from somewhere downhill in the camp.

His stomach gurgled quite loudly at the thought of eating something other than the hard cheese and hard bread he had safely stashed away in his pack. He had run out of better things to eat more than a week ago, and the mercenary band had had no time to hunt or replenish their food stores in other ways. It was a good thing he had a decreased appetite, these days… though clearly, as his stomach was gurgling again and quite loudly, he still had something of an appetite when he could smell the faint echoes of something appetizing. 

His stomach’s anxious gurgling noises attracted the attention of the elf not far from his side. 

To his surprise, he heard the elf chuckle in response. 

“Here, I found these in the bush,” the elf said, reaching into a small hide pouch sewn into their trousers. Deft fingers removed two blue speckled eggs. They were small-looking eggs, probably from a species of Rock Warbler, though they looked delicious. “We can cook them over the fire.” 

“My friend,” Inigo said, feeling somewhat touched by the elf’s generosity, “While I am very grateful, those eggs seem quite small, and I feel terrible depriving you of your dinner.” 

“I’ll just find more tomorrow. I usually don’t eat more than one at a time, anyway.” 

The elf placed the two eggs on the young fire, near the middle where the coals were hottest. 

“How do you find time during the day to look for eggs?” Inigo queried, after a moment of listening to the fire crackling around the eggs. 

The elf laughed, and though Inigo could not see too many fine details in this light, he saw the elf pull away the green linen cowl wrapped around their face. “I am used to moving at much faster speeds, when I am alone. I can usually slip away for an hour or so every day, and I’m always back before anyone notices that I am gone. But tonight, I spotted the nest just as we were setting up camp, which is why I left you to set up the fire on your own.” 

Inigo stared at the two little blue eggs, their shells illuminated by glowing embers. He could smell them cooking on the inside, and could not find it within him to refuse the elf’s generosity further. 

“Thank you very much for sharing your dinner with me, friend. My name is Inigo. What is your name?” 

The elf took a moment to respond, nimbly turning the little eggs over, able to place their hand so close to the fire because they were wearing thick rawhide gloves. “I am called Aranwen.” 

“How long have you been working for Rol and Eevaas’ company, Aranwen?” Inigo asked, curious. 

The elf grimaced. “Not much longer than you’ve been a member of this outfit.”

“I must admit, you do not seem to fit in with the others here,” Inigo prodded gently. He had noticed Aranwen before, though only in passing, as he had to admit the elf certainly had a talent for staying out of sight and out of mind. 

“I convinced Rol that he had need of a ranger to pull the band through the wilds into Hammerfell, especially once we enter the highlands proper and food becomes truly scarce for a week or so.” 

“Then it is good that we have you for this journey.” Inigo stated quietly. He wasn’t the best judge of character, but he had an odd feeling in his gut with regard to this small elf. 

“Rol respects your sword arm, Inigo, but I’ve seen the way Eevaas treats you. I daresay you don’t belong with this band anymore than I do.” 

Inigo thought his answer through before replying. “There are always ugly minds, no matter where you go. Rol is arguably less narrow-minded than most humans, and while he is in charge this group is as good as any other. Besides, I need the coin.” 

The elf nodded. After a brief pause in conversation, Aranwen reached into the fire and grasped the eggs delicately with one gloved hand. But even through the glove, they were too hot to handle for more than a moment, so Aranwen gently deposited each of the eggs on the grass between them. “They’ll need a moment to cool off.” 

And again silence stretched between the two of them as they kept watch. Inigo repressed a noisy yawn, his eyes scanning the pitch black edge of the campsite out of the glow of torches and their own small fire pit. He could smell the eggs, which smelled especially delicious cooked. 

“Thank you again for this unexpected kindness, my friend.” 

Aranwen smiled as they pulled off their gloves. “Please, it is no problem.” 

Slowly, the two began to crack open the shells of the eggs to reach the soft insides. Inigo’s stomach rumbled again in anticipation as he uncovered his egg. He reached for the hard bread and cheese in his pack as well as a small knife, and carefully cut the egg and the cheese into slices that he placed on the hard bread. The combination was lovely, and before he could truly enjoy his dinner, it was all gone. 

The elf was still working on their meal, taking small bites at a time, stretching out their dinner. “I will find more eggs tomorrow. You are a bit larger than I am, so I will bring you more than one egg.” 

Inigo shook his head. “No, my friend, I cannot accept. I don’t have any coin to repay you, or anything to trade for it.” 

Aranwen shrugged. “It’s no problem. It's nesting season for blue rock warblers in these parts, so I often find more eggs than I need. Once we reach the highlands I won’t be finding as much food so I’ll have to start foraging more anyway.” 

Inigo nodded, a little bewildered but feeling grateful despite himself. “It is quite a good skill to have, finding food. I am a fair hunter if given a bit of time to track big game, but I doubt we’ll have a chance before we reach Hammerfell.” 

Aranwen shifted a log on the fire, throwing in a bit of dirt on it to keep the glow to a minimum. Inigo could smell the increased smoke. When the elf spoke again, it was in an even more subdued whisper. “I am probably not going to remain in Rol’s company that long. My plan is to eventually split from the company due north, into Skyrim.”

Inigo was surprised to hear this. “Perhaps you will tell me why you are bothering to travel with us at all if you did not plan to stay until we reached Hammerfell and began doing the work we were hired to do?” While this was not true of every mercenary or bandit outfit Inigo had joined in his tumultuous life, Rol and Eevaas were not the kind of people who paid their sellswords up front. One generally had to wait until the job (of the looting, pillaging, killing, fort commandeering, ransacking, etc., variety) was done before one saw a single glimmer of gold. 

Aranwen, having long finished eating their egg, was currently re-wrapping their hood and cowl over their face. “Cyrodiil is no longer safe for the likes of me. For a while I could hide in the panic and disarray after the treaty was signed, but no longer.” 

Inigo nodded. “Why Skyrim? The Nords…have a reputation for unfriendliness.” 

“To put it mildly.”

“Yes.” 

“I guess you could say I have a vested interest in staying out of reach from the Thalmor.” 

Inigo nodded. “Then Skyrim is a good choice, at least for a while.” 

“Agreed.” 

“Well, I will be sad when you are going, for I feel as if I have made a friend tonight.” Inigo let himself say. 

He could not see the elf smile, but he thought he could hear traces of a smile in Aranwen’s reply. “You are a very sweet person, Inigo. I have no idea what you are doing with these thugs.” 

“Circumstance! And, well, gold, my friend.” 

Though they spent most of the rest of the night in quietly keeping watch, they did so in companionable silence. Inigo felt the stirrings of something like hope within him, and for a short, short time, the small glow of their campfire and the taste of those eggs lingered on Inigo’s mind like a balm, and kept his demons at bay. 


End file.
